Star Wars Episode 353: The Fun Begins
by Michael Raziel
Summary: Part 3 of Jedi Purge era serial. Feedback welcomed!


Star Wars Episode 3.5.3: The Fun Begins

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . .

"Blue two, break off now! You're targeting the wrong --"

Blue leaders voice died in a burst of static as his wingman fired, filling the bullet shaped cockpit of his starfighter with green light. Two took his T.I.E. Aleph through the fireball, rolling it ninety degrees to port to avoid the spinning solar panels, and died as the incoming Eta -2 put two linked bursts into his exposed belly.

_Fierfek_. "Three, Four, break pursuit and RV at our position." Blue Five didn't want to believe his sensors. Somehow, after surviving everything the Seps could throw at them for two full years, Blue squadron had been cut in half in under three minutes by a single fighter. Three Flight had ceased to exist when the two junior pilots had juked their fighters into their leads -- this while the target was still well outside weapons range. Then Blue Two, the most junior pilot in the squadron, had unaccountably vaped his lead and given the target a clean shot at his own ship. Despite twelve to one odds, Blue Squadron was getting mauled.

_It's only one fighter._ The thought was not as comforting as it should have been . Five had followed this particular fighter into combat in three different systems; he knew better than most how dangerous it's pilot was. If anyone needed any further proof, he'd show then his flight log. Jedi, it seemed, were even deadlier to clones than they were to driods.

"Two Flight, closure square, volley on my mark." His Flight Group formed up around him, putting his fighter in the lower left of a square centered on the targets bearing. Three and Four had peeled off "high" -- in a deep space engagement, directions were given relative to the target crafts orientation and bearing -- and Lyriel was making no move to pursue. She'd been flying with the clones of Blue Squadron for long enough to know better; if she got involved in the twists and turns of close maneuver -- the "knife fight" in parlance -- the approaching flight group would pick her off easily. Instead she ignored the fleeing pair and shot directly at Two Flight, hoping to minimize the time she spent under their guns.

Five watched the numbers tick off his rangefinder in a blur, their combined speed ensuring that he and his boys would only get a single shot before the Jedi was past them and coming about for her own attack.

"Three, two, one,_ mark_." He squeezed the trigger on his flightstick and smiled as he saw eight green bolts converge on the target; clones excelled at mass fire tactics. _Dodge that, wormhead._

To his astonishment, she did. The Eta -2 began a snap roll to starboard even as he gave the command to fire, then shot off at a right angle to her pursuit, on a course that put her to starboard of their formation.

Five cursed and hauled his stick around to follow. "Break, Break, Break. Seven, report. Do you see her?"

Seven's voice came over the comm, calm and professional. "Negative, LT, no visual conta -- "

"I've got her!" Blue four was too green for professionalism, he sounded like a kid with a sweetroll. "Coming around, one seven mark two five zero."

"Seven, confirm." That made no sense. If she continued with the turn to starboard she'd loop back around and give them a chance for another volley, and this time she'd be caught in a crossfire.

"Confirmed, Five. Maybe we got a piece of her."

_I hope so._ "Three, you are clear to engage. Keep it loose out there, we've had enough collisions for one day." Five kept his eyes glued to his targeting readout, fearing another trick, as three and four winged over and slid up on the target ships aft.

Three bursts later the target was an expanding ball of fire, vapor, and debris. It had not even attempted a maneuver.

Five expelled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Nice shooting, three. Everybody form up on me. Seven, patch me through to _Victory _control."

Seconds later a new voice, deeper than a clones and with a Coruscanti accent, came through his speakers. "Blue Five this is _Victory_ control. What's your status?"

_Our status? Six of my brothers are dead, you _di'kut. "Target Raid one neutralized. Blue Squadron is RTB with fifty percent casualties."

There was a seconds pause as the control officer relayed his meesage to Captain -- no, now _Admiral_ -- Dodonna. Then it returned: "Blue Lead, that's a negative on RTB. You are ordered to take your group into CAP position over target Dirt one. Acknowledge."

Five fought the urge to scream. CAP -- Combat Areospace Patrol -- involved taking your ship into the upper levels of a planets atmosphere and flying around in circles, looking for exiting spacecraft. Blue squadrons T.I.E. Aleph prototypes mated the Eta -2's bullet shaped cockpit with fixed vertical solar panels on either side; they were nimble enough in vacuum, but were roughly as areodynamic as a jawa Sandcrawler. Gold Squadron's V-wing bombers were escorting the CR-20 troop ships down to the surface; the ops plan had called for their Three Flight to take up CAP duty once the perimeter was secured. For control to have called reinforcements in poorly suited spacecraft meant the drop was not going as smoothly as they'd hoped. Moreover, their engagement with Commander Lyriel had placed them more than 15 klicks from the planet; it would take slightly more than ten minutes for them to get in position.

Five wanted to shout all of this at the complacent bridge officer, preferably with his hands around the mans throat, but he was a clone, and he had his orders. What he said was: "As ordered. Blue Lead out."

Then, on the squad channel: "All right, Blues, you heard him. We're watching the soup 'till Gold Squadron gets their act together."

They were too well disciplined to groan, but he heard it anyway. Blue Four piped up: "Hey, LT, tell me again why we didn't just slag this place from orbit?"

"The traitors are holding something that High Command wants intact. Now shut up and get into formation, we're gonna be late enough as it is." Two Flight formed up into a standard diamond closure formation, with three and four trailing behind.

As they flew towards Kemparas, Five -- now promoted to One -- tried to banish the fear he felt crawling in his gut and along his spine. _One Jedi just killed half my squad, and now we're on the way to a whole blasted building full of them. _

_ This is not going to be a good day._

To be continued


End file.
